


baby, you're made of stardust.

by turnaboutcafe



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Existential Angst, Existential Crisis, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Outer Space, Stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:55:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24197074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnaboutcafe/pseuds/turnaboutcafe
Summary: he always wondered why he bothered to keep a journal, but no matter how hard he tried, the habit of writing down his day always stuck, trapping his time in a book, a time capsule that no one but him would ever see, a portion of history never disclosed.after all, they were never going back.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	baby, you're made of stardust.

Sweat clung tightly onto Akaashi’s skin as he returned to the base, his body weighed down by the heavy protective gear strapped onto him, separating him from the clouds of sand that kicked up in the air, shielding him. Dust jumped into the air as he continued to walk, feet creating resounding sounds in the air. His bunched muscles only relaxed once the base’s metal doors were sealed shut behind him, tension flowing away from him. With a gasp, he lifted the astronaut helmet from his head, shaking out his dark locks, peeling them away from where they stuck uncomfortably to his sweat sheened forehead. In moments, he found himself in more comfortable clothes, a pair of sweatpants and a large t-shirt hanging onto his body, a stark difference from the tight suits he was used to wearing daily during his time out. Despite its discomfort, it was the only thing truly saving him from death.

Akaashi flipped open the dark notebook that lay waiting in front of him, clicking open his nearly finished pen, starting to fill the page in flowy penmanship. He was beginning to reach the end of the notebook, the previous pages filled with journal entries and tapings of samples he’d found in his journey, all recorded meticulously in the tiny hardcover notebook. He always wondered why he bothered to keep a journal, but no matter how hard he tried, the habit of writing down his day always stuck, trapping his time in a book, a time capsule that no one but him would ever see, a portion of history never disclosed.

After all, they were never going back.

Writing the last lines in his journal, articulating the new plants he had found far west of their base, he shut the notebook, storing it carefully back into its position in his shelf, lined up perfectly with other official records and experiment logs Bokuto had probably put alongside his work. Despite how filled the space was with files upon files of investigation logs, experiments and vials of samples, it felt empty. It was as if his sole existence failed to fill the space in the tiny base they had, as if the 50 square foot sleeping quarters were too much space for just one person.

He felt alone.

Slowly, he made his way to the kitchen, filling a bottle with water, drinking it hungrily, the liquid quenching the dryness that was beginning to travel through his throat. As he gulped, his eyes shifted to the doorway. More sand had entered the house, dusting the hallways ever so slightly, a pair of heavy duty boots sitting beside the door. The door had been opened; Bokuto was probably home.

Despite knowing that, the base was devoid of Bokuto’s usual loud chatter, none of the incessant talk permeating the air, bare of the warmth that he carried with him. The silence was still, unbroken, chilling as Akaashi tried to fill the space with his own presence, yet it lacked the warmth of another. 

Depositing his bottle on the table, Akaashi moved towards the window, round glasses perched on his nose, its battered frame a constant reminder of home. The dust storm that had kicked up while he was out was now gone, replaced by a stillness in the air, almost as if time had stopped. 

Evening was beginning to set on the planet, beautiful hues of dark purple and blue overtaking the sky, submerging it into a twilight as the light faded from the sky, speckles of glittering stars beginning to peek in constellations through the dark expanse. The stars were comforting as they twinkled down onto the planet, an ever constant reminder of time moving as they hid and showed periodically, dancing across the sky as they always did, as they usually did back on Earth.

It reminded Akaashi of home.

“Bokuto-san?” Akaashi called out as he tore his gaze from the window, beginning to pad across the base. “Bokuto-san, are you back?”

No answer came, the only thing in the air the sound of his own words echoing back at him. Slowly, Akaashi made his way to the connecting hall of the base, the soft chirps of insects from the greenhouse luring him, growing louder and louder as he walked further and further down the hall, coming closer and closer to the greenhouse. He still hadn’t been sure how insects found their way to their greenhouse; it was a mystery of its own.

His socked feet were chilled against the cold, stiff foundation of the floor, shivers running up him slightly as he tried to find his mission partner. Still moving towards the hall, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, keeping them from freezing over and he moved further and further away from the base, closer and closer to the second building they had made upon landing. The further he walked into the hallway, the louder the sounds of nature grew. The chirps of the insects, the rustling of leaves — it was all so familiar.

For a moment, it reminded Akaashi of home.

“Bokuto-san?”

“Akaashi, you’re back already?”

Akaashi pulled away the plastic curtain separating the base and the second building, eyes taking in the sight before him. It had been once a humble greenhouse but now it flourished with the plants they had brought from earth, perfectly sowed into the tilled soil, sustaining itself despite the alien composition of the soil on the planet. The greenhouse was almost overgrown, canopies of hanging plants draped across the ceiling of the greenhouse, only the smallest portions of the window still peeking through. Flowers in full bloom found itself growing in some of the shrubbery on the ground, colors bright amidst the dusty, pale color of the earth outside, a stark contrast to everything else they had found on the planet. The ground, once only a sandy, dusty surface, was now a beautiful emerald green, lush grass growing throughout, the only part missing from it the dew dotted texture of the grass back at home. Akaashi didn’t even remember the last time he had set his eyes on the greenhouse. He didn’t remember how long he had been avoiding it.

How long he had been avoiding a reminder of home.

In the center of the grass laid Bokuto, back flat on the ground as he gazed up, eyes trained on a large uncovered spot in the glass of the greenhouse, sighing as he looked at it. His arms rested on the back of his head, cushioning it as he continued to look up, a soft smile forming on his face as he continued to stare at the stars. Slowly, Akaashi walked up to him, laying himself next to Bokuto, looking up at the greenhouse ceiling, curling next to him. As they looked up in the night sky, not a single word was shared between them.

The night sky was beautiful, a dark expanse of stars blanketed across it, twinkling brightly amidst the dark blue, streaks of a pinky gradient splashed across it, a milky way forming across it. The stars were especially vibrant, large as they looked down at them, watching over them as they observed the dark expanse of nothingness, the nitrogenous balls of light a fascinating sight. The beauty of the night sky was unlike anything else on the planet. It was nothing like the dusty ground and the sandy dunes that extended for miles and miles on end. It was nothing like the smoky air that clouded their vision farther east, or the inhabitable areas to their north, plagued by unstoppable storms. The sky was nothing like anything natural that existed on the planet they now forced themselves to call home. 

The sky was beautiful, just as it had been on Earth.

“You’re doing the thing again, Akaashi,” Bokuto murmured, shifting slightly closer to him. Akaashi drank in his scent. Despite his lack of any artificial fragrance, Bokuto smelled like the musky cologne he’d always used years ago.

Years ago, when they were back on Earth.

“What thing?” Akaashi asked, eyes still staring at the sky. “I’m just looking at the sky, like you are.”

“No, you aren’t,” Bokuto chided. “You’re thinking about it again.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific, Bokuto-san.”

“You’re thinking about home, aren’t you?”

Akaashi fell silent, not a single word coming to his mind and his mouth tried to form a reply, lips only moving slightly before he let them slack, unsure of what to say. Despite the precision and firmness to his words, Bokuto wasn’t looking at him in the way he usually did when Akaashi descended into dark thoughts, eyes trained up. He was only looking up at the sky wordlessly, focusing intently on it as if he was studying them.

“The greenhouse reminds me of Earth,” Akaashi managed. “And the sky.”

“You must miss it,” Bokuto breathed. “You must miss Earth.”

“Do you not?”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Bokuto smile. “I would miss my world if it left. The difference is, the world came with me to outer space.”

A warmth spread itself in Akaashi’s heart, yet the cold, gripping sensation of homesickness overcame it, chilling his heart, freezing it over, pushing the warmth away, winter clutching him tight, unrelentless. The only thing in his mind now was the heat of balmy summer days, large expanses of water on the beach, the chattering of human life, the excitement of life.

The life he had left behind.

“Do you ever regret accepting the mission?” Akaashi asked.

“Do you?”

“Sometimes,” Akashi admitted, biting his lip, quivering. “I miss Earth. I want to go back.”

Bokuto’s eyes softened, his head tilted towards him. “You know we can’t go back.”

“I know.”

The silence overtook them once more, words lost in the space between them. Akaashi found himself alone with his thoughts again, attacking his mind relentlessly as he tried to think straight, gritting his teeth. Even as he stared up at the night sky, all he could think of was home. All he could think of was the tiny apartment he and Bokuto used to share, the random cafes they went to to study for their exams, the resounding cheers around them as they went to volleyball matches on their days off, the blaring of the TV as it announced Japan’s win in the Olympics. No matter how desperately he tried to push it out of his mind, it was the only thought that would find him every time his mind drifted into nothingness. Home was all he could think of; Earth.

It suffocated him.

“I don’t regret it,” Bokuto murmured.

“You didn’t have to leave it all,” Akaashi whispered. “You could have stayed home, had a good life doing tests and experiments on the space plants the rovers sent back. You didn’t have to leave Earth.”

“There’s a difference between leaving Earth behind and letting your world leave you,” Bokuto replied, voice calm. “I wouldn’t have changed my decision to come, not in a million years, Akaashi. I don’t need the Earth if I can’t have my world.”

Akaashi shifted closer to Bokuto, his warmth seeping into him as Akaashi pressed himself gently against the other, inhaling his scent deeply, even if he’d memorized it by heart. Leaning his head on Bokuto’s shoulder gently, he continued to take in all he could of Bokuto, committing him to memory, making sure he could never forget Bokuto, making sure that the memory of Bokuto never left his mind.

Because he never knew what could go wrong.

“Don’t think about it, Akaashi,” Bokuto continued softly, voice devoid of its usual casual harshness. “Don’t think about it.”

“Yeah.”

Bokuto continued staring at the sky, mouthing words silently, letting his breath rise in the air. Akaashi watched as Bokuto’s gray eyes shifted ever so slightly every few moments, looking at the different twinkling specks in the sky, lips parting in a wordless whisper.

Bokuto pointed at a star. “That’s Kuroo, and that one’s Kenma. The one beside them, the big one shining obnoxiously brightly, that’s Oikawa, and the angry star next to it is Iwaizumi.”

“What are you doing, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked, looking at him. Bokuto’s eyes shifted again, moving his gaze to another star.

“I do miss home sometimes,” Bokuto admitted, smiling softly. “The stars help me deal with it.”

“The stars?”

“I name a star after the people I love,” Bokuto smiled, pointing up to a particularly bright one. “That one’s my younger sister.”

“A giant ball of gas?”

“Akaashi!”

Akaashi muffled his amused chortles at Bokuto’s indignant opposition, composing himself.

“Do I get a star?”

Bokuto shifted his body, facing Akaashi. His breath fanned Akaashi’s face, only centimeters away from him, eyes soft as he looked at him.

“Baby, you get the sun.”

Warmth bloomed in Akaashi at Bokuto’s words, a gentle kiss planted on his forehead, barely there before Bokuto retracted, moving to look up at the sky again. Even at the slightest contact, Akaashi’s forehead burned from the kiss, his body willing himself closer, as if being closer to Bokuto would solve everything on his mind. It was as if the slightest contact expelled the thoughts of home from Akaashi’s mind like a spell, extracting it out. Even the slightest brush of lips was an aphrodisiac, overtaking Akaashi’s mind, all else forgotten.

As Akaashi found himself once again, he grinned a lopsided smile at Bokuto. “You know that technically the VY Canis Majoris is the largest star and not the sun?”

“Akaashi!” Bokuto complained, dragging out the ‘a’ in the middle of his name. “I’m a biologist, not some fancy astronomer like you are. I wouldn’t know.”

“You work at NASA, Bokuto,” Akaashi teased, Bokuto lightly slapping his shoulder in retaliation.

“I’m not a genius!”

Mirth danced across Akaashi’s lips, tumbling out as soft laughter, filling the silence in the air. His eyes were closed, the world around him dark as the joy continued to flow from his lips, warm arms wrapping around him indignantly, Bokuto’s slightly larger frame engulfing him. The weight of his hand was comfortable across Akaashi’s stomach, comforting, even. It grounded him. It told him someone was next to him.

And that he wasn’t alone.

“Shut up, Akaashi,” Bokuto mumbled, though amusement flashed his face for the briefest moment.

“Okay, okay,” Akaashi relented, letting the last few laughs escape him before falling back into the silence. “So why am I the sun?”

“Because it’s the center of our solar system,” Bokuto mumbled. “And everyone would freak out if it disappeared.”

“You would freak out if I disappeared because I’m the only other human on this planet, Bokuto— hey!”

Bokuto delivered a sharp kick to Akaashi’s leg, a yelp of surprise escaping him. Now it was Bokuto’s turn to laugh, chortles escaping him as Akaashi sent daggers towards him. Even amidst his surprise, a smile still tugged at his lips.

“I’m going to kick you back.”

“You’re informing me?” Bokuto asked. “You can’t attack me if I know about it beforehand. You can’t attack me if I run away either.”

In moments, Bokuto stood up from his position beside Akaashi taking off in the opposite direction of the greenhouse. Stumbling to get up, Akaashi chased after Bokuto, laughter filling the air as Bokuto streaked through the hallway connecting the greenhouse to the base, footsteps quick as Akaashi chased him, laughter and the thudding of footsteps permeating the air. Almost instantly, Akaashi caught up to Bokuto, hitting him on the side. The amusement came to Akaashi’s face this time, filling it.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Bokuto growled, amusement lacing his voice.

“You can’t catch me, Bokuto-san.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Without reply, Akaashi took off, running as fast as he could towards the greenhouse, lactic acid coursing through his veins, the exhaustion replaced by the pumping of adrenaline, his heart beating like it was about to jump out of his chest. As he launched himself above the wheat crops, he turned back, eyebrows quirked as he looked at Bokuto. Amusement lined his face as he looked at Akaashi, muscles in his legs bunched up, as if he was ready to take a run towards Akaashi.

In an instant, he raced across the lush grass, jumping across the fragile plants. With a jolt, Akaashi ran to the opposite corner of the greenhouse, a mad dash towards the connecting hall immediately ensuing. But slowly, the exhaustion in his limbs began to set, the thundering of Bokuto’s footsteps coming closer and closer towards him. Sweat beaded his forehead, soaking into his shirt slightly, sticking it to his back.

Without warning, a strong pair of arms wrapped around his waist, trapping him.

“You really don’t run as fast as you used to, Akaashi,” Bokuto murmured, breath ghosting his ear. Akaashi stiffened, turning around to face Bokuto only after a moment. Bokuto’s cheeks were tinged red from exhilaration, yet a wide smile stretched itself from cheek to cheek, eyes crinkling in the corners.

Before Akaashi could think, he pressed his lips onto Bokuto’s. He melded into his warmth, sinking into him as if it was a part of him that he had been missing, a part of him that had been robbed away. Bokuto kissed back, gentle and calm, like waves in an ocean, lips touching only in the slightest, arms wrapped firmly around his waist, holding him. The warmth bloomed in him again, surrounding him, encasing him in it. 

But it was a different kind of warmth. It was the comfortable warmth of the spring day, the warmth that swept his skin as he walked through the park in front of his home, watching kids play toss and university students commute by bike. It was the warmth of a comfortable bed, the warmth of a hug under the sheets, the warmth of shifting closer towards Bokuto on a cold night, wrapping his arms around his waist. It was the warmth Akaashi had forgotten, the warmth he had left back on Earth.

And for the first time in years, he finally felt at home.


End file.
